Silas' POV
Five weeks.
I marked it down on the cheap little calendar I pinned to the prefab wall of my workshop. Five weeks stranded on this barely-charted world, and somehow I've been busier than I ever was running solo.
A lot has happened.
For starters, I finally finished building my second machine.
A ZGMF-1000 ZAKU Warrior.
Yeah — that Zaku. From Seed Destiny. Always did like the Zaku line, and since Gaia was running solid, I figured I might as well replicate something reliable and adaptable. I even gave it some of Gaia's internal tech:
• Phase-Shift Armor
• Ultracompact fusion reactor
• Heat Axe
• Assault Beam Rifle
So far? Runs beautifully. Maybe too beautifully, because the moment word spread, I no longer had to search for a pilot.
Theodore's daughter showed up last week and practically demanded to be part of my mercenary outfit.
Still don't even have a name for the damn company yet.
She's a firecracker, that girl. Determined to the point of being dangerous. But the simulators don't lie — she's doing better than most green recruits I've seen. Once I finally get off this rock and start taking proper contracts, I'll see what she's really made of. She wants to be a MechWarrior? Fine. She'll earn it the same as anyone else.
While sorting that out, I've been manufacturing smaller tech to keep myself afloat. Nothing revolutionary:
• Water filters
• Heating units
• Spare parts for the militia's battered mechs
These people can't pay me much — which is fine for now. Salvage, materials, basic supplies… anything helps.
Hell, I even went ahead and helped them rebuild the ammunition factory. It was half-dead when I arrived. We're nearly finished now, and by my rough estimates once it's fully operational, it should be able to produce ammo at twice the previous rate… assuming they can get the right materials.
I did have to automate a few things. More than a few, actually.
And once I took Theodore's daughter under my wing, others started showing up too — wanting to join my mercenary company. Volunteers. Not something I expected, but I'm not turning away help. I just made it very clear: no freeloaders. Anyone who joins pulls their weight, or they walk.
Despite everything, life's been… decent. Productive. Predictable. A strange feeling.
I talked with one of the governors the other day. Apparently, out here in the back end of nowhere, merchants only swing by every few years. The last one came through two years ago.
Which means I might be here a while.
Maybe a long while.
——///—-
Vanessa's POV
Life is never easy.
Not on this godforsaken scrap-heap of a planet I was born on. Not when I joined the militia. And definitely not when my mom died.
Nothing has been easy since.
I love my dad — that stubborn old bastard raised me right — but I can't stay here. This world has nothing left for me except dust, sweat, and ghosts. I want to see the wider galaxy. I want to matter. I want my name to mean something someday. I want more than this planet could ever give.
My one chance? The man who dropped out of the sky and saved all our asses.
I just wish he arrived sooner. The same pirates he slaughtered were the ones who killed my mother. When we found her name on the casualty list… everything inside me collapsed. I broke down right there. Cried until I couldn't breathe. Wished it was a nightmare.
But it wasn't.
Dad and I mourned her in our own ways. And once the dust settled, I made my decision:
I'm leaving this planet — even if it kills me.
My best shot was Silas, the mercenary who saved the militia and half the settlements on this side of the continent. The man who obliterated a pirate light lance like they were made of paper. Then the medium lance showed up, and he shredded them too — like it was nothing.
Right then and there, I realized something:
If I had a machine like his, no one could ever take anything from me again.
I could carve out my own destiny.
So I packed my things, left Dad a note, and marched straight to Silas' base. Turns out he was in the middle of building a new machine — one completely different from the one he fought in.
That's when he gave me an offer:
Ace every simulation he assigns me, and the new mech is mine.
So here I am.
Inside the sim-pod. Running Simulation 32 in a desert environment. All the enemies are modeled from the commander's BattleROM — the mechs he fought when he saved us. Those were the only ones he had data for, so those are the ones I fight.
I'm not terrible. I'm not great either. I keep failing.
But I keep getting back in the damn pod.
All I have to do is clear thirty-five sims. Then I'm officially the pilot of that new machine.
A knock hits the outside of my sim-pod. I pause the run, slide the door open, and see Silas standing there.
Silas: "Hey, champ. Just letting you know I'm heading to see the governor again. Might be gone a couple days. Try not to kill yourself in the simulator, alright?"
He's more patient with me than I deserve. I've had… a few emotional outbursts in the pod.
Vanessa: "Sure thing, Commander. I'll take it easy. Oh — if you run into my dad, let him know I'm okay."
Silas: "Will do. And remember — once the next dropship arrives, we're on it. Make sure you're packed and ready."
Vanessa: "Clear, Commander. I'll be ready."
He gives me a firm nod and leaves. The pod door closes and I'm alone again.
I take a breath, reload the simulation, and dive back in — determined to finish this, no matter how many times I fail.
——/////—-
Unknown Location
Unknown Voice 1:
"The disposable forces we sent to retrieve the site have failed."
Unknown Voice 2:
"Failed? On that backwater? I was under the impression the world was barely capable of fielding militia, much less resisting the units we lent them."
Unknown Voice 1:
"So were we. But according to my contacts, an unidentified BattleMech intercepted the team and eliminated them before they even reached the entrance."
Unknown Voice 2:
"One machine did all that?"
Pages rustle—someone scrolling through a datastream.
"That's what this report suggests."
Unknown Voice 1:
"Confirmed. The others speculate it may be some form of experimental SLDF asset. Possibly a Cameron-era project that survived the fall."
Unknown Voice 2:
A low hum of interest.
"That would explain much. If the machine emerged from the site itself… then the installation is even more valuable than we predicted."
Unknown Voice 1:
"Agreed. Additional forces are being marshaled. All expendable cat's-paws with no traceable link to us."
Unknown Voice 2:
"Excellent. I'll finalize my end of preparations. May your efforts bring success—and may fortune favor our purpose, brother."
A secure channel clicks off.
Darkness returns.
END